


restless

by poisonrationalitie



Category: 19 Kids and Counting RPF, Counting On (TV) RPF
Genre: Gen, Late Night Conversations, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonrationalitie/pseuds/poisonrationalitie
Summary: It's too loud in the Duggar house, even when everyone's asleep. Johannah isn't the only one wandering around in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Jackson Duggar & Johannah Duggar
Kudos: 2





	restless

Silence never truly fell in the Duggar house. Not really. Hannie could hear water rushing through the pipes above her head, and Meredith’s distinctive snoring from the small bed next to Josie’s. Since Jed and Jer had ‘moved out’, the Duggar girls had been two beds short, codifying the tradition of climbing into one another’s beds and making it a necessity. That only made silence rarer; it had been months since she’d had a bed to herself.

Jenni shared with her tonight, and while she’d turned onto her side so Hannie faced her back, her little breaths were still quite audible. It wasn’t just that; it was the sound of her hair rubbing against the pillow, the light creak of the springs when she stretched her legs out. Every little thing seemed to stick in Hannie’s ears tonight. Usually she was as talented as any regular teenager at sleeping, whether it be through a baby’s cries or the rapture (Jana was the light sleeper amongst them all, and if anything  _ really _ bad happened, she’d wake them).

She kept as still as possible, careful not to brush against Jenni. She had some sense of self-preservation, after all. Hannie repeated scripture in her head, the verses they’d gone over today, but without really giving the words any consideration. After half an hour or so, Jordyn and Mack started giggling. She heard Jana roll over and hiss something at them. Johannah gave up any hope then and there of a quality sleep that night.

She waited another ten minutes, until Jana’s breathing had turned deep and even once more, and then slipped out of bed. At once, Jenni rolled onto her back. The moonlight streaming through the windows made her silver hair appear to glow. She was lucky, Johannah thought. Jenni looked like herself. Johannah was always called a younger Jana or Joy or somebody else. It was as if God had forgotten how to make a Duggar girl after six boys came out, and simply mashed her together from her sisters. God didn’t make mistakes, Pastor Caldwell said, but if she’d not been so attached to spending time outside the prayer closet, she would’ve argued the point.

She grabbed a jumper from the floor, near the foot of Josie’s bed, and pulled it on. The sleeves squeezed her arms tight and it didn’t zip up, but it would do. For once in her life, nobody was awake to sharply tell her to choose something less distracting; it wasn’t even immodest, but the fact that it finished at her waist and not her hips could’ve drawn attention away from her countenance. Whatever.

She treaded lightly past her parents’ room and along the catwalk, but she needn’t have worried - the light was already on in the kitchen, glowing yellow. Someone else was up. It took Hannie a moment to process the situation; and then she realised she ought to go back to bed. She wasn’t allowed to be on her own with any of her brothers, especially not in the middle of the night. She froze at the top of the stairs, watching the figure close the fridge door. 

It was Jackson, she realised, eyes adjusting to the brighter light. Her favourite brother. They weren’t really meant to have favourites, but she did; almost everyone did, regardless of what they were told. Jana’s was John-David, and Jessa’s was Jinger, and Jed’s was Jer, and Johannah’s was Jackson. Only Jenni treated them all the same, and for whatever the rules were, Joy and James tried awfully hard to get her to make exceptions for them.

She took a step onto the stairs, and then another. Hannie was halfway down when Jackson finally turned around. Even from a distance, she could see the glint of a milk moustache above his lip. Unlike when they’d been little, it actually had hair to cling to these days, and seemed a bit more substantial. It was weird to think he was getting old. Weird to think that the brother above him in age order was courting and practically engaged, that it wouldn’t be completely out of the blue if it was him next. Justin had met Claire when he’d been Jackson’s age, after all. Johannah didn’t like that. Anyone young enough to sport a milk moustache was too young to start courting, she thought. 

Jackson’s face changed, nose scrunching. She knew he was thinking of the rules too. She hovered on the steps; if she didn’t actually go all the way down into the living room, maybe it didn’t count. Plausible deniability. She’d heard that phrase when her dad had been screaming at Josh in his office, and they’d all hovered outside with their ears to the door, trying to make sense of the magazine covers at the grocery store. 

Jackson climbed the stairs, still holding his paper cup. He stopped two below her; she felt tall, and a smile crossed her lips.

“What are you doing up?” Jackson asked. Scraggly stubble struggled to hold onto his chin; it looked stupid. 

“You need to shave,” she said, and ran her finger across her own chin, like his mirror. He touched the offending hairs with his free hand.

“Jase said it makes me look older.”

“It makes you look like Justin.”

“Oh,  _ Claire,”  _ Jackson said dramatically, in his best imitation of their brother. Hannie couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” she said. They looked at each other for a moment. Jackson sipped his milk.

“So, what  _ are  _ you doing up?” he asked. Johannah shrugged.

“It’s too loud,” she said. He tilted his head to one side.

“Too loud?” he echoed.

“Too loud,” she confirmed. 

“I was just enjoying the quiet,” he told her. She raised her eyebrows at this; he shrugged. 

She surveyed the living room, and the hurricane that had hit it earlier that day. Tricycles lay abandoned on their sides, and baby dolls were strewn across the floor. A tiny pair of mustard shoes perched upon an armrest of a chair. She half-expected a forgotten child to come crawling out of the debris, howling for their overdue dinner. But then again, Hannie supposed they would’ve made their presence known when Jackson first turned the light on.

Jackson slurped the last of his milk, interrupting her thoughts. “I should go back to bed,” he said. “If I wait too long, Tyler might steal my blanket. He says it’s warmer than his.”

“You should have a servant’s heart and give it to him,” Johannah teased, and he crossed his eyes, pulling a face. He put his foot on the next step. She moved aside, letting him pass.

“What about you?” he said, pausing just before he reached the catwalk. “You’re not planning on stealing a plane and flying to Italy, are you?”

“Girls can’t fly planes, stupid,” she reminded him, an edge to her voice. She sighed. “No. I might sleep on the couch.” He nodded.

“Alright. I’ll tell the others not to come bother you. Once Dithy’s up, though, it’s fair game - no sleeping in if you’re on the couch,” he reminded her gleefully. Meredith was a notoriously early riser, and for whatever reason believed the day was best started by shaking her baby dolls awake and providing the loudest running commentary known to man on what she was doing with them. Maybe everyone popping out babies nearly every three months since she’d been born had caused it. 

“You could be a good brother and tell everyone not to wake me up,” she suggested. Jackson snorted. “You’re not my favourite anymore,” she told him.

“Has  _ Justy Boy  _ taken my place?” he asked, voice full of mock concern. 

“Go to bed,” she told him. He raised his hands in the air, as if surrendering, and stepped onto the catwalk.

“Alright, alright. Night, Hannie,” he said.

“Night,” she replied. 

His footsteps faded, and she headed downstairs, sinking into the couch after plucking a dirty bib off one of the pillows. Over the years, the couch had grown lumpier, and accrued a thin layer of grime that not even the most fervent sweeping could get rid of. At least she had it to herself. Hannie supposed she ought to thank God for his blessing of a couch for her to lay on, but the crisp crumbs caught in the sleeves of her too-small jumper put a dampener on her praise-filled prayer. 

Hannie shut her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep quickly. It was about then that she realised she’d forgotten to turn off the light.

You never could just lay down peacefully in the Duggar house. 


End file.
